


Birthday Cake

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Fate/Slutty Meme Magus [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, video game references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: It's my party, I can cry if I want to!





	Birthday Cake

**Author's Note:**

> i never keep things sad for long don't worry.

It’s too bright. The neon lighting in the waiting room doesn’t distract from the brown carpets and soothing music specifically there to make patients and family members more calm. It doesn’t work on Ifumi. She’s been here too many times to listen to the television droning on in the background, and when her hands squeeze into fists to stop shaking, she gets up and walks down the hall, searching room to room for the person she’s looking for.

_ “Passed away in the night, I think _,” someone says. She didn’t catch the rest. It pushes her to run down the ever-expanding hallway, elderly patients who sit unresponsive in their wheelchairs staring up at her.

One door. There’s a man inside, arms crossed as he looks over an empty bed. She doesn’t recognize him and double takes. Still, something in her knows that the number on the door is right, and this is where she should be. “Hello?”

He doesn’t answer. His face is clouded, though she can see he’s tall, with skin as dark as hers, and his hairline looks clean, like he’s just gotten it cut and shaped at the barber shop. He crosses his leather-jacket clad arms and then turns to look at her, then begins to walk towards her. 

Fear grips her. What will he say? Will he tell her it was her father? Her mother? Her baby sister? Her hands clasp together. “Excuse me, I-”

If he can hear her, he doesn’t show it. In fact, as he goes to walk out, he passes straight through her. “Shame. Ain’t nobody know who she was.”

It’s chilly, all of a sudden. Her hands clasp together before she rubs her arms with them, and then turns back out to the hallway. She doesn’t want to look at the bed, or check for any evidence of the patient’s existence. She needs to go. And quickly.

The lights are off in the hallway. Her fingers trail against the side of the wall so she doesn’t get lost, or fall into something. It desperately feels like she’ll fall into something. Panic surges through her for some reason; her body presses up against the wall, and she breathes deeply. Where is she going? Why doesn’t she stop?

_ Can’t breathe. _

“Mom?” Cold. It’s too cold. “Dad? Anybody? Does anybody-” 

There’s laughter. A light on the far end of the hall inspires her to jog and then to run to it, her arms crossed over her chest in order to build up speed. “Any-”

A family of six is standing around a dinner table. In the midst of the laughter, a song is being sung so loudly it echoes off the walls of their family home:

_Happy birthday to ya__  
_ _Hap-py birthday to ya_

_Happy birth-day__  
_ _Happy birthday to ya_

She won’t reach for the cake, or get any closer to try for a slice. Her eyes linger on the inscription written in icing and she pauses. 

_ Ifumi _. 

The candles are already blown out.

She looks up at them all. None of them will look at her, or even acknowledge she’s there. Anger flashes through her, and she smacks her hands on the table. “Why are you eating my cake without me?!”

It feels trivial. No, more than trivial, it feels _ childish _ to shout about it, especially when they’re reluctant to look at her. 

“This is my cake-” She starts again, but this time, her face prickles with heat, tears streaking her cheeks like white-hot steam. “Stop!” Her hands grab onto her father’s and grabs the knife from him. “If you don’t know how to respect me, you can’t have any-”

His gaze finally snaps to hers, and her blood runs cold; eyes tightening as he scrutinizes her, he looks her up and down with disdain, confusion and anger flashing across his face in sequence. “Who are you?”

Her mouth opens. “I’m-”

_ “Who are you?!” _

She wants to scream at him. _ Your eldest daughter _ . _ It’s my birthday _\- 

She can’t. She’s mute. Every scream is stifled before another one is conceived in the back of her throat, and her hands fly up to her neck. 

_ “Master.” _

Why can’t she hear herself? Why won’t she move? The air smells like summer nights, all of a sudden. It’s jarring, for some reason, and her brain wills her to move when it comes into contact with it. 

_ “Ifumi? Ifumi.” _

Her eyes shoot open. Instead of the ceiling, Merlin’s smiling face is hanging over her. There’s something creased between his eyebrows, but when his eyes close to pronounce the smile, it disappears. “Wake up, Master! The day’s already begun.”

The skin underneath her eyes hurts. She doesn’t have the energy to tell him off for waking her, but she shifts a little and gingerly rolls onto her side. Sweat is slick against her skin; the sheets are so wet, it takes a moment to process their texture beneath her body, but it makes her sigh. “...still dark,” she forces out. 

“Oh, I know,” Merlin admits. “I just thought it would be fun to come visit you earlier than normal! Now come, come, Master, we have things to do!”

She sighs. “...no. I’m taking the day off.” Then she stuffs her face into her pillow, hopefully to hide the puffy rings under her eyes. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t answer this, but she can still smell the floral scent of spring hanging over her. 

“What? Go away.” It bubbles in her throat and breaks in the worst way possible. It was only a dream. There was no need to get upset about it. 

“...mm. But if I go, I won’t be able to tell you the tale of the king again.” He begins, and she sighs.

After a moment or two, she says, “...I don’t want to hear that one.” Then, as though to amend it, she tells him, “Tell me a different story.”

There’s a sudden weight on her bed; a soft hum escapes him, and she can’t help but feel a little calmer, despite enduring the shame of being seen with tears in her eyes. “Let me see…” When she peeks at him from under the pillow, he leans back a bit, taking up enough space on the bed to lounge. “...ah! I’ve got one. I’ll begin the story here. Many moons from where we are, in a place called Cocoon, the citizens of a certain town are being evicted against their will.”

“Mm.” She sighs into the pillow. “Go on.”

“These poor people,” he continues, “have come into contact from a different star- called ‘Pulse’ and the government considers them contaminated.” She watches as he twirls his finger in the air. “Of these people in town, a citizen soldier- named Lightning- has decided to rebel against such an order. This is the town her family lived in, you see, and where her sister- who has gone missing- was even planning to get married.”

“...isn’t this Final Fantasy 13?” Ifumi finds herself asking.

“Yes!” Merlin smiles. “Are you enjoying it?”

For a moment, she can only see the soft lines of his face illuminated by the light from the hallway; when he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows, she’s sure that if she says ‘no’, he’ll hastily try to tell a different story. Despite her instincts, she worms her way a little closer to him, the pillow still under her chin. “...yeah. I am. Please, go on.” 

“Very well,” he seems more pleased than she would’ve suspected, which makes her feel more comfortable with how close he is. “Now, where was I? Oh yes! I was introducing Snow!”

* * *

_ “Why are you eating my cake without me?” _

Servants and Masters share dreams all the time, but this was different. He shouldn’t have come. Absentmindedly, he finds his fingers tangling in some of her soft curls as she lays at his side. She’s asleep again. Final Fantasy always did the trick for that. 

It wasn’t her fault that he knew her greatest fear, now. It was his fault. If he’d stayed up in that tower- Ah. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the Mages’ Association. The problem was the future, was clairvoyance, was-

“Hm.” The digital clock stared back at him, mocking him for his stupidity. Three o’clock. The perfect time to do work. For him, at least. Not her. “And the world will keep spinning, and time will keep flowing. Isn’t that right, Ifumi?” 

He knew she couldn’t hear him. It was better that way. To say foolish things under his breath, or to no one. Better to go, for now. She’d wake up, think she had a nice dream, and go about her day better than before. Simple, simple. But why was it so hard to move? To tear himself away from-

He lifted his hand from her hair. “Good night, Ifumi,” he murmured, but when he moved, his robe snagged on something. Ifumi. Impassive, he waited, wondering if it was only instinct, but then she speaks.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs. “Merlin.”

When she utters his name, he isn’t sure of how to respond. She could still be sleep talking; humans are prone to do such things, during or even after dreams have ended. But then she speaks again, more insistently, “Don’t go.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. It would be foolish of him to do that. He _ must _ prepare for leaving. It nags at him, eating away at the back of his mind, reminding him of what would happen if he stayed. 

The creak of the bed beneath him makes a comforting sound, and he leans back. “...alright, Master,” he wishes it didn’t make him smile, didn’t pull at his gut in such a sharp manner, but it does, and he swallows it down like one of her home cooked meals. “Whatever you want.”


End file.
